Chapter 5 - Quiet Worth
Grandma Opal was sitting alone on the glass-enclosed porch at the back of the house, a tartan blanket draped over her knees. She held a cup of chamomile tea, watching the moonlight reflect off the frosted grass outside.
I walked in and sat on the wooden bench beside her.
“You talked to Harlan Voss,” Opal said without looking around. It wasn't a question.
“He offered me a deal,” I said quietly. “Keep quiet about Larkfield’s collapse, let Skyler spend her savings to buy into a dying company, and extend their freight credit so he can escape the fallout.”
Opal took a slow sip of her tea, the steam rising into the cool air of the porch. “Your mother spent thirty years believing that if something isn't shining in front of an audience, it doesn't exist. She thinks status is protection.”
“She made me feel like I was nothing for ten years, Grandma,” I admitted, the old bitterness rising in my throat despite my efforts to keep it down. “They sat me on an ottoman when I was twenty-three and told me my dreams were a luxury I couldn't afford. And tonight, they tried to buy my dignity for thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
Opal set her teacup down on the small iron table with a quiet clink. She reached over and took my hand in hers. Her skin was dry and paper-thin, but her grip was surprisingly firm.
“Money is loud, Wendy,” Opal said, her eyes fixed on mine with sharp, fierce clarity. “Worth is quiet. But quiet and hidden are not the same thing. You hid your strength because you were hurt, and I don't blame you for protecting yourself. But hiding allowed them to build a fantasy where they were your saviors. You let them play the hero while you sat in the dark.”
“I didn't want the drama,” I whispered.
“Life is drama, child,” Opal said softly. “And your sister is walking into a trap set by men who wear three-thousand-dollar suits. Are you going to let her fall just to keep your secret safe?”
Before I could answer, the glass door slid open. Skyler stepped onto the porch, hugging her arms against the chill. She looked flustered, her pristine executive posture sagging at the shoulders.
“Wendy, please,” Skyler said, her voice sounding small in the vast night air. “Mom is getting upset. Dad is sitting inside holding the pen. Just come back to the table and sign the papers. If you’re settled and have a real job, Mom will finally stand down. She won't be on your case anymore.”
I looked at my younger sister. For years, I had viewed her as the favorite—the golden child who swallowed our parents’ ambition whole and asked for seconds. But looking at her now in the pale moonlight, I saw the cost of that favor. She was terrified. She was terrified of failing, terrified of disappointing our mother, and terrified of questioning the powerful board that had just handed her a crown made of lead.
“Skyler,” I asked gently, “did Harlan Voss ask you to wire two hundred thousand dollars for your equity stake by Monday morning?”
Skyler blinked, surprised. “How... how do you know about that? That’s private board business.”
“Did he tell you why they need that cash immediately?” I pressed.
May you like
“It’s standard corporate buy-in,” Skyler said defensively, though her voice wobbled. “It shows leadership commitment. I took out a personal loan against my investment portfolio to cover it. Once I turn Larkfield around, the returns will be—”
“Skyler,” I interrupted softly. “Come inside with me.”
